


At Christmas you tell the truth

by tictactoews



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tictactoews/pseuds/tictactoews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first present - a clearly handmade greeting card with just a smiley face drawn inside - was slid under his dorm room door when Grantaire was in class on December first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Christmas you tell the truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maharlika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maharlika/gifts).



> This is a part of my 12 Days of Ficmas thing, but since the ficlets are late because of reasons, I'll just post them individually.
> 
> This one is for flutterings, who wanted something happy with e/R. I hope you enjoy! <3

Grantaire smiles when he notices the rose sitting on the study table he left for just a couple of minutes to find another book in the university library. It's the last day of classes before the Christmas break, and the place is pretty much empty, but he still didn't notice anyone coming up and leaving the flower.

Grantaire has no idea who has been giving him gifts all December. They are always little things, like a star-shaped Christmas ornament or a gingerbread cookie, but they never fail to brighten his mood. 

The first present - a clearly handmade greeting card with just a smiley face drawn inside - was slid under his dorm room door when Grantaire was in class on December first. He looked at it carefully, trying to figure out the prank, only to be forced to conclude that there wasn't anything malicious about the card at all. No ominous messages, no shady proposals, nothing. Just a hand-painted snowman decorated with unholy amounts of glitter and sequins, which brought to mind only one name: Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac's face when Grantaire came to question him about the card was a thing of beauty - equal parts gleeful and surprised.

"Our very own R got himself a secret admirer! How sweet!" he exclaimed, clutching the card to his chest.

"Give me that," Grantaire said, snatching it back before it could get creased beyond recognition. "And how exactly did you get secret admirer from this? It's a sparkly snowman, it doesn't exactly scream romance."

"My dearest, sweetest R," Courfeyrac said, crushing Grantaire in a side embrace. Grantaire might have preferred it when he was smushing the card, not him. "There are only two reasons to send someone anonymous mail: threats, or confessions of undying love. And I see no threats here."

"I don't see any confessions either," Grantaire said. "So you're telling me you had nothing to do with this?"

"Sweetie, if it was me, you'd be getting a glitter bomb at least."

"Fair point," Grantaire admitted, and left Courfeyrac alone.

So, it isn't Courfeyrac. But Grantaire knows it's someone else from their tight little group - it must be. There were exactly three occasions on which Grantaire arrived at the Musain for their meetings only to find out someone had left a gift on his usual table. And, as they say, once is a coincidence, three times is a pattern. 

And, judging from the rose in the library, it must be someone who's studying at his university, which is not very helpful as it effectively rules out only Feuilly and Eponine. Grantaire smells the flower; it's fresh and fragrant, deep red in colour, and it's decorated with a shiny golden ribbon.

Grantaire has given up on figuring out his secret gift giver since he spent the last ABC meeting carefully studying everyone's faces while eating the cupcake that had been waiting for him when he arrived. Nobody betrayed anything, and Grantaire had to admit that whoever it was could probably hustle circles around any poker table.

Grantaire packs up his books, knowing he won't be able to study any more, and takes the rose home. He puts it in a jar of water on his nightstand, and that night he falls asleep with a smile on his face. Again.

**

When he finds a box of his favorite tea hanging in a gift bag from his doorknob, he decides it's time to take action. No, not to reveal the gifter, but hell - if someone cares enough about him to give him this many gifts and go to all this effort to keep this a secret, they deserve to get something back. The thoughtfulness of the latest gift gives Grantaire a not entirely unpleasant pang deep inside his chest - he doesn't remember ever mentioning this tea to anybody, as he usually always drinks it when he's too wired to sleep. It's lavender and chamomile, and it works like magic, but he hardly ever drinks it around other people. His secret Santa must know him well.

It's difficult to pick a present if you don't know who it's for, so Grantaire assembles a box of goodies he thinks every one of his friends would enjoy: a bar of nice Swiss chocolate, a hand-knitted scarf - one of the many he's made as his way of stress relief, a mug that was just plain white when he bought it but has a hand-painted wintery scene on it now, a cinnamon scented candle, and a card. He thinks long and hard about what to write on it, and in the end settles for this:

_Dear whoever has been giving me presents all month,_

_I don't know who you are (and I guess that's what you wanted, so good job,) but I want to thank you for all the effort you've made for me. I don't know why you did it, but you put a smile on my face every single day, which you probably know doesn't happen very often. I wish I could reciprocate properly, and maybe I will get the chance if you choose to reveal your identity, but for now please accept this present. I know it's not much, but I hope it makes you smile, too._

_Thank you,  
R._

He intends to leave the wrapped box on his table after their last meeting before Christmas, hoping that his secret Santa will find it. His plans are effectively destroyed when he gets a mass text from Courfeyrac not even an hour before the meeting is due to begin.

"Last minute change of plans PARTY AT COURFS instead of Musain, E-approved. Bring booze and mistletoe xx"

He curses under his breath. He can hardly take the present with him to Courfeyrac's and Jehan's apartment - who would he give it to and how? - and he won't see any of them till they come back from Christmas break, at which point giving out Christmas presents will be redundant. Maybe he could still bring it to the Musain and see if, by any chance, his Santa has left anything for him. If yes, there might be a chance of them finding their gift as well.

To his disappointment, his table is empty when he arrives, but he spots Enjolras sitting near the counter of the cafe, who might just be the solution to his woes. He, along with Combeferre, is usually the first one to arrive for the meetings, and therefore he might just know who's been leaving things on Grantaire's table. It's Christmas time, and they haven't been fighting in a while so Enjolras might just be amenable to help him out. Feeling desperate, he drops into the chair opposite him.

"Apollo! The light of my life, I need your help,"

Enjolras raises his eyebrows. "You sound like Courfeyrac, which is never a good thing."

Grantaire grimaces. "Yeah, he rubs off on you after a while."

The corner of Enjolras's mouth twitches slightly, as if in amusement. "What do you want, R?"

Grantaire admits that it's a better reaction than "get out, I'm busy," so he carries on.

"Do you, by any chance, know who's been giving me gifts for the past few weeks? I'm not asking you to tell me who it is," Grantaire says when Enjolras starts to open his mouth. "If they want to stay secret, that's fine with me. I just need to know if you know."

"Why do you think I would know?" Enjolras asks. He doesn't seem surprised at the mention of gifts, so he probably noticed something at the Musain. Maybe even someone.

"Because I got some of them at the meetings, and you're always the first one there," Grantaire explains.

"Grantaire, literally everyone is there earlier than you," Enjolras points out, and crap, he isn't wrong.

Grantaire waves it off. "Not important, my question stands. Do you know who it is?"

Enjolras stays quiet for a few moments, long enough that Grantaire starts to lose hope. "I know," he admits eventually. "But I can't tell you."

Grantaire sighs with relief. "Bless you, you beautiful human. You have to help me now. See, I had this plan to give them a gift in return," he says, taking the box out of his bag and placing it on the table, "but the cancelled meeting kinda messed up my plans, you see."

"And you want me to take it and give it to them?" Enjolras asks without taking his eyes off Grantaire's gift.

"Could you? I don't know what else to do."

Enjolras looks at him, head tilted and eyes narrowed. "It's important to you, isn't it? Okay then, I'll give it to them."

"Thank you," Grantaire says with a relieved grin.

"So I take it you liked the gifts?" Enjolras asks with a mysterious smile, reaching for the box and cradling it carefully in his arms.

"Of course I did! I loved them. Whoever gave me them is a freaking angel and I wish I could tell them that myself and probably hug the living daylights out of them, but alas. I just... I can't imagine why anyone would do that for me."

"Can't you?" Enjolras asks with a meaningful arch to his eyebrows. Well, Grantaire's pretty sure it's supposed to mean something, he just doesn't know what.

He has one more art class to teach before the party, so he leaves Enjolras and the present in the cafe. He doesn't forget about it, not entirely, but his kids manage to distract him a great deal and it's not until he's back home, washing watercolors off his hands and arms, that the familiar buzz of anticipation returns to his stomach. Will his gifter be at the party? Will they reveal themselves? Will Enjolras even manage to get the present to them before that? 

His thoughts are interrupted by a knock on his door. He glances at his watch; if he's supposed to make the party, he should be leaving in about five minutes, so he hopes that whoever's at the door won't take up a lot of his time. 

"Enjolras!" Grantaire exclaims as he opens the door, too surprised to use the nickname. "What's up? Was there a problem with the present?"

"No, not at all, safely delivered and received," Enjolras replies, standing there with his hands in the pockets of his coat. "I just thought you could use a ride to the party, since I'm not planning on drinking anyway."

Enjolras lived on campus, too, rooming with Combeferre since their freshman year, but Courfeyrac's and Jehan's place was about ten minute drive away from the university.

"Uh, okay, yeah, that would be awesome," Grantaire stutters out. "I just need two minutes to get ready, come in," he says, and as he steps aside to let Enjolras in, he notices a small package dangling from the door handle by a ribbon. Confused, he looks up at Enjolras, who's looking at him with both determination and a kind of softness in his eyes. A shy smile plays on Enjolras's lips, and something clicks in Grantaire's head.

"You?" Grantaire asks, his voice breaking even on this one word.

Enjolras doesn't answer, just unzips his coat a little, showing the scarf that was in Grantaire's present.

"Why?" 

"Can I come in?"

Grantaire nods and steps aside, taking the little package with him inside.

"Why did I give you the gifts, or why I'm here telling you it was me?" Enjolras asks once they door is closed behind them.

"Both. Wait, no, neither. Why didn't you tell me earlier today instead of letting me make an ass out of myself?"

Enjolras frowns. "What? When did you make an ass out of yourself?"

Grantaire groans, sinking onto his bed and hiding his face in his hands. "When I was waxing poetic about how wonderful my secret gifter was, and all that time it was you." He doesn't remember what he said exactly, but fuck, it must have given Enjolras a good laugh. 

The bed dips beside him and he feels warmth all along his left side. "You're a dumbass," Enjolras says, nudging him lightly. "If anyone should be embarrassed, it's me. I gave you, what, two dozen gifts? I mean, I might as well have given you my heart on a silver platter. That's why I wanted to keep this a secret."

Grantaire peeks at him from behind his hands. "Then why didn't you?"

Enjolras smiles, and Grantaire's not sure, but he thinks he can see a flicker of sadness in his face.

"Because of your note," he explains. "I read it and I realised I wanted to make you smile every day, not just for one month, but forever. And then I thought how much planning it would take to do it in secret, and well, I picked the simpler solution."

"What are you saying?" Grantaire asks, lowering his hands and looking straight at Enjolras. This whole situation feels unreal, and Grantaire is in a dire need of some straightforwardness. Luckily, it's Enjolras, the no-bullshit, straight-to-the-point Enjolras he knows and loves.

"I'm saying that I want to be the one to make you happy every day. If you let me," Enjolras adds with a hesitant smile, and _what the hell,_ why is he even hesitating. If there's anything certain and unwavering in this world, it's Grantaire's feelings, and he needs to show that to Enjolras right the fuck now. 

He makes a strangled noise and all but throws himself at Enjolras, kissing him fiercely and messily. Well, only messily because Enjolras meets him with a startled but delighted laughter and a firm embrace around his middle.

"I'll take that as a yes?" Enjolras asks when Grantaire has to take a moment with his face smushed into Enjolras's neck to compose himself. His hands are running soothingly over Grantaire's back, and he thinks he might melt right there.

"Take that as a hell yes, and also as an 'I never want to move from this spot again'."

Enjolras laughs. "We have to move if we want to make Courfeyrac's party," he says. Grantaire groans and snuggles even closer to Enjolras in protest. "Tell you what," Enjolras says, sliding one hand into Grantaire's hair and playing with the curls. "We'll make an appearance, stay for an hour, and then come back here. Deal?"

"I could live with that," Grantaire replies, and moves up to steal another kiss. Enjolras has promised him 'every day' and 'forever', and Grantaire's pretty sure that for him it's never going to get old.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me [on tumblr](http://tictactoews.tumblr.com/)


End file.
